'Twas a coal-black horse, and the man wore a scarlet coat all powdered with pilm; and as he opened the gate and came over the graves, father saw that 'twas the dashing dragoon. His face was still a slaty-grey, and clammy with sweat; and when he spoke, his voice was all of a whisper, with a shiver therein.
"Bedman," says he, "go to the hedge and look down the road, and tell me what you see."
My father went, with his knees shaking, and came back again.
"I see a woman," says he, "not fifty yards down the road. She is dressed in black, an' has a veil over her face; an' she's comin' this way."
"Bedman," answers the dragoon, "go to the gate an' look back along the
Plymouth road, an' tell me what you see."
"I see," says my father, coming back with his teeth chattering, "I see, twenty yards back, a naked child comin'. He looks to be callin', but he makes no sound."
"Because his voice is wearied out," says the dragoon. And with that he faced about, and walked to the gate slowly.
"Bedman, come wi' me an' see the rest," he says, over his shoulder.
He opened the gate, unhitched the bridle and swung himself heavily up in the saddle.
Now from the gate the bank goes down pretty steep into the road, and at the foot of the bank my father saw two figures waiting. 'Twas the woman and the child, hand in hand; and their eyes burned up like coals: and the woman's veil was lifted, and her throat bare.